that is totally normal right

sbakkoushs  asked:

this fandom is beyond ridiculous and fucking irritating, henrik didnt say anything wrong lmao and as someone whos done acting and had to answer questions like that, what he said was totally normal? he's not in the US right now, his acting career in norway is still small, he doesn't need to be as cautious as high profile actors in the US. this fandom... its like they understand nothing. theres a time and a place, he talks a bit different in each interview with different people...

and his thing abt ‘supportive friends’ was totally true tho, some people who are ur friends can get too obsessed with your character and treat you different and put you on a pedestal. its incredibly unhealthy to continuously take your work (e.g. even which is a complex character) home and be hounded abt it 24/7 bc you need to take care of yourself too. thats why in acting there is so so much talking and analysis so you’re also able to separate yourself at the end of the day, it’s work.

——————————

yeah see this sums it up about right. 

youtube

This is so incredibly powerful and all my followers (especially you high schoolers heading to college soon) should see it. 

Life is not a series of selection menus; it is an ongoing journey with ups and downs and roundabouts that seem impossible to merge out of. You may find yourself so busy chasing happiness that you miss a real opportunity. You may achieve your goals only to find that it wasn’t at all what you’d hoped. You may realize that you don’t really KNOW what your goals are at all.

And that’s ok. In fact, that’s more than ok: that’s life. 

We tend to look at (and especially look back on) our lives like highlight reels or resumes: a series of ‘notable’ points with blank space between them. But life isn’t like that. Your life can’t be summed up by the memories on your Facebook feed. Life is a second-to-second adventure that is equal parts struggle, confusion, and hard work. 

And sometimes–just sometimes–it’s absolutely spectacular.

And it’s ok to remember those spectacular moments fondly. But just make sure you never forget that each and every one of them had chunks of the struggle/confusion/hard work mix in between. So if you find yourself in one of those now, don’t lose hope. Don’t give up. If I can convey one thing to my followers it’s this:

Nothing lasts forever. No matter how awful what you’re going through is, it WILL pass. Tomorrow the sun WILL rise. Whatever you’re going through now WILL fade. If you’re in a bad situation, educate yourself about it and what steps you can take; your situation will eventually change. If you’re confused about what you want, find what you LIKE and throw yourself into it; you’ll eventually feel a pull. If your own self is what’s somehow betraying you, HOLD. ON. Even the severest of setbacks have fluctuations. Wait for your moment, and claim victory.

Even happiness is transient; and that may seem like something sad and awful.

It’s not. The truth is so much of what we call ‘happiness’ is found in the pursuit of it. We panic when we feel it slipping from our grasp, but don’t worry: it’s just giving us the chance to chase it again; it does us the favor of continuing the game of tag before we ourselves even realize we’ve stopped playing.

Your life will be full of times–sometimes long times–that are frustrating, and make no sense, or are unjust, or unfair, or infuriating, or just plain hard. Worst of all, some of you may have to face those things alone; and I’m sorry for that. I’m so deeply, deeply sorry.

But.

Even the darkest clouds eventually give way. Have faith in the never-still, ever-changing nature of life, and hold tight, baby. Because sooner or later, the sun breaks through all the grey and it makes everything that came before worth it. 

Sooner or later, there’s going to come a moment where you truly shine.

Be ready.

So the gang obviously have tons many shitty inside jokes and in group memes that no one else understands

- Anyone asks about a city or a place the reply is always “that’s Canada right?”

- Ram and the shadowkin’s secret love affair

- “*Quill rides in with a bus* heard you were talking shit”

- [Blank] is a pejorative phrase

- If the rest are ignoring her she just shout “you’d listen to me if I were some a-hole telling you how fat you looked on instagram”

- *Sees a flower petal * “EVERYONE RUN, THEY’RE AFTER THE SQUIRRELS”

- Asking Matteusz for random details about Charlie’s anatomy “so his elbows are totally normal right?”

- Explaining human things to Charlie very slowly like he’s a child (even if he has heard of them before) “so Charlie this is what us humans call a C-U-P, they hold LIQUIDS”

- Pointing at random bugs “That’s a weird looking alien”

- The ongoing debate about whether or not it’s okay to snog a robot

- *Charlie and Matteusz are holding hands* *Ram covers Tanya’s eyes* “Not in front of the child”

NurseyWeek Prompt #2 - Surprise


Bitty almost jumps out of his skin when the Haus’ front door bangs open, the loud slam of wood against wall echoing through the hallway and reaching Bitty where he had been sitting placidly at the kitchen table. He relaxes when he recognizes Nursey in the archway of the room, but something about the way he’s standing makes Bitty double take.

It looks like someone took Nursey and gave him a good shake, sloughing off all that hipster cool that he so carefully cultivates for his everyday persona. Nursey’s lost the regular slouch in his shoulders, the serene look on his face; now, he’s swaying slightly, legs and arms tucked tight into his body. It’s like he’s unconsciously trying to take up as small a space as he can, which, being a 6’2” college athlete, isn’t all that small. His curls are slightly mussed, and he has lines of exhaustion written across his face.

“Bits,” he says, a note of solemnity in his quiet voice, “I need your help.”

Keep reading

Writing is Hard, Part 3: Phone Sex

Summary: You and Dean try something in order to write about it.

Read Part 1 Part 2

Warning: Smut, dirty talk

Word Count: 3000ish

A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. Hope you enjoy! XOXO


“How many are we up to now?”

The phone rests warm between your ear and shoulder as you glance down at the screen. “Almost four hundred followers,” you tell him. “Not exactly famous yet.”

Dean pauses, and you picture him sprawled out on a motel bed very much like yours, just two states over, glass in hand and flannel shirt crumpled at the foot of the bed, undershirt clinging tight to his chest.

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I tried.

I’ve had this in my drafts for a while and for whatever reason just didn’t post it but with the spam happening right now, I think it’s the right time to post it. 

so I was looking at this picture:

and at first glance, it’s totally normal, right? just a cute pic of three coworkers. until something caught my eye. Specifically, the blood on Cait’s forehead. Look at her, clean and adorable as a daisy. no blood anywhere else so hMM where did that blood come from. well, it ain’t Graham because her head isn’t on his shoulder like that and the blood on his shirt looks relatively dry.

so we go to the other gentleman in this picture. Who is COVERED in fresh blood, including his neck and face. and if you take a closer look at his neck, there’s a mysterious clean spot:

which lines up quite perfectly with a certain someone’s forehead. Me thinks two very cuddly people were being very cuddly…even with fake blood. 

Originally posted by heckyeahreactiongifs

Imagine: Tyler Seguin - Anything But Cute

Requested: Yes | No

  • hptc22 asked: Can u do a cute one with Tyler seguin where u confront him Bc he said he only wanted to date older girls and u are younger then him and ur insecure Bc u want him to think ur like hot not adorable and he’s sweet and blah blah <33

Word Count: 1,165

Summary: You watch Tyler’s “Barstool The Life” video and notice the part where he says he’d only date older girls… It preys on your insecurity a little bit so you decide to find out what Tyler really thinks about your age. 

Keep reading

indicator

otherwise known as the 5 times Garrus Vakarian crushed on the Commander, and the 1 time he finally realized it. 


Glancing at her didn’t mean anything, right?

Because it was totally normal, or so he had told himself, to look at other people while they ate. He looked at Tali, looked at Samara, exchanged middle fingers with Jack, and looked – glanced – at Shepard. Took in her red hair and plump lips and rosy cheeks that were probably, most definitely, were very soft to touch and –

She shifted, and Garrus swallowed quickly through a piece of Levo steak that he hadn’t completely chewed through.

He choked a little, and shrugged off Tali’s concerned hand before lunging for the water.

And as he tossed back a glance, he saw her, from the corner of his eye, watching him, lips twisted up in now what he knew firsthand as a smirk.

He met her eyes. (Ignored his thudding heart.) Narrowed his own in a challenge.

But she merely looked away, so easily – because surely glancing at him didn’t mean anything, right?

.

The sound of a crash and a loud hiss of a very human swear caught his attention, if only because it was some ungodly hour in human standards, as he had learned being aboard a human ship for as long as he has. There was no mistaking the voice, too, and unlike her, Garrus was wide awake. So when Shepard stumbled into the mess with bedridden hair and drooping eyes, she only gave one look at him before she brushed past his shoulder.

Garrus merely tapped his fingers against the mug.

And so she began to affix herself with that human drug-disguised-as-liquid, Garrus couldn’t help it. He looked. Again.

He swore it was only because he wasn’t aware her fringe could really do that.

“Your hair,” he managed.

She only grumbled in response, before she brushed past him again – so close, it shot electricity down his spine – before collapsing into the chair opposite from her, blowing on that steaming, somewhat earthy smelling mug.

“It’s sticking up,” he continued, undeterred.

He watched as her eyes widened, and her hands abandon the mug to tug it back down into place. He knew the human tells of embarrassment – years of C Sec would do that to any officer – and yet he had never quite found the human thing of cheeks turning red, (blood, as it were) to be oddly endearing.

And when she wrestled her fringe to be normal again, and as she mumbled a half swear from lazy and half-asleep lips, Garrus found himself conflicted; almost wishing he hadn’t said something in the first place.

.

His fingers drummed against the railing, and honestly he didn’t know he was waiting for it. Didn’t realize the odd tranquility – relief? – that came with the familiar hiss and slide of the door behind him.

He flexed his fingers and turned, readying what he knew was a greeting that was a perfect blend of sarcastic, aloof, yet warm, and as he took a breath to unleash the line he’d been thinking of –

- the words died when he realized it was Joker.

The human raised an eyebrow. “Don’t look so disappointed.”

“I’m not-“ Garrus swallowed. “- Disappointed. Why are you back here anyways?” He said quickly. “Shouldn’t you be flying the ship?”

“Right?” Joker said. “You’d think that’s what a pilot should do. Hey,” he said suddenly. “Tell that to Shepard. Then maybe, just maybe, she’d let a human – who has flown several ships for her, by the way – actually do his job, instead of an AI.”

Garrus merely blinked as Joker scrunched his nose. It was an expression he didn’t typically see on Shepard, he thought, as his fingers resumed drumming the edge of the railing.

“Why don’t you tell her that yourself?” he said goodnaturedly, but the look that Joker gives him said so otherwise.

“You kidding? These days she’s only coming to see you.”

Garrus’s fingers froze.

“That’s why I came in here anyways, to get her to demand EDI to relinquish control back to me. And to tell her that imitating the Reapers isn’t funny. Well, it would be at the right times, but taking over the flying while parroting Assuming Direct Control isn’t really quality humour.”

And Joker was gone, but Garrus hadn’t been listening. He was still stuck on that first part, and truthfully he wouldn’t stop hearing those eight words over and over, on repeat, until the next day.

.

‘Business as usual’ was already a stretch when he was busting crimes daily with C-Sec; when it became the bandit attacks and wave after wave of firefights, though, Garrus never knew if he was in over his head.

But it was comforting to be lead by Shepard, who knew what she was doing, and he could follow her orders without feeling off.

In fact, it felt right.

He’d never really identified that before.

And the thought played in his mind, festering like a fire, and it’s not until a snipe that’s a little too close to his position than he would’ve liked shock him from his thoughts.

Shepard was holding the smoking pistol, too.

“Earth to Vakarian,” she barked over the comm. “Are you taking a nap?”

“No, Shepard,” he responded, and to prove it, he whipped out his rifle and began to scope out the next bandit to show their face.

“Well good,” her voice crackled into his ear. “Because they had a target on you, and you’re not allowed to hit the dust before-“

“-Before-?”

He couldn’t help it; his heart did an awkward flop and he has to bite his lip, turn up the volume of Fleet and Flotilla, to just maintain concentration.  

A sigh blew into his comm. “-Before the end of this mission.”

Bang.

He watched as the bandit in his scope dropped clean with a splash of red; the shot rang out like a pleasant accompaniment to the soundtrack oozing into his ear.

Get a room,” was Miranda’s only addition.

.

Of all the crew, it was Samara’s expression that caught him off guard.

It wasn’t until the rest of them had filed out after their mission debrief, after Samara tapped him on the wrist as Grunt was the last to leave, Shepard in tow.

It was one simple word.

“Heat?”

A cross between mortification and embarrassment shot through his spine, and at first he merely flanged in astonishment before he found his voice again. “Hea- no, I’m not eighteen Samara.”

The Justicar merely shrugged, and it was times like these that Garrus sincerely wished that, if they were to have one resident Asari on board, it should’ve been the younger one who would at least not be so upfront about it.

“My apologies,” she said, with no change in her voice at all. “I assumed. Humans and Turians are quite close in lifespans…”

He couldn’t help the involuntary flare of his mandibles as Garrus gawked. “Shepard isn’t eighteen either—“

But Samara merely gave a smile that was less reassuring and more chilling, and once again Garrus had no idea if the Asari was merely teasing or being completely serious.

“Well your voice shows it, you know?” She said conversationally. “I’ve met enough Turians in my lifetime to identify the sound. You may want to be more subtle though, especially around the crew.”

And then she was gone, or maybe Garrus was just standing there. Processing. Blanking.

What did she even mean?

.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit.

He didn’t know when it’d hit him like a pile of bricks but it did, and it did literally right in front of her – when he was going to go off on some other funny anecdote because it was what he did, what Vakarian did to Shepard, fireforged friends who went through hell and back and may be on the verge of something and –

He, probably – definitely? – liked her. Romantically.

Terror shot up his spine – it was very clear to him that Shepard had come to him with the proposition of blowing off steam. And him, like an idiot, rolled with it. Didn’t even know, shit – since when – was that what Samara meant, did Miranda know before the two of them, was Joker kidding, were fringes ever cute –

– Was glancing ever just glancing

And the words tumbled out of him before he knew what he was saying, and the insecurities spilled revealing things he didn’t even quite know he felt, and suddenly he was questioning whether she was okay with it all because he’s a turian and she’s a human and they’re friends, best friends, and it could be awkward and bad and they need each other and, really, do they even fit together properly?

But she touched his face, thumb careful along his scar.

“I want you,” she said.

And he was flying. His heart picked up and his throat caught and he knew his mandibles flared, as they do involuntarily, as his mother’s do around his father. Twenty emotions played at his heart and he wanted to do nothing more than to pick her up and spin her around but he refrained, disguising this utter elation with a terrible joke that even made him cringe, and he has no way to recover from the smirk that twisted up her lip as she backed away with a coy, “I’ll let you get back to work.”  

“Right,” he droned.

Shit, shit shit fuck, I think I may really like her.

“’Cause I’m in a great place to optimize firing algorithms right now.”

All The Sights of Paris

A new Zimbits fic!

Hello all. I have just completed my longest Zimbits fic to date. I’m very excited to share it with everyone. It features an amazing artwork by the talented @happyzimm.

Head over to AO3 for the full fic. Here’s a preview…

-

Summary: Eric and Jack meet atop the Eiffel Tower. It’s the beginning of a few whirlwind days together, but Eric’s leaving soon. How much can really happen between them in just a few days?

-

Eric hears the voice break through the clutter of other languages. It’s accented, but it’s English. Finally.

“Excuse me.” He taps the shoulder of the man who’s been speaking on his phone.

The man turns, and Eric’s breath catches. He’s gorgeous. If Eric knew, he probably wouldn’t have approached him at all. Eric enjoys flirting, generally speaking, but he’s terrible at flirting when he actually cares to.

But that’s not why he interrupted this man’s enjoyment of the Eiffel Tower.

“Yes?” The man says, looking down at Eric from a fair few inches above him.

Eric clears his throat, and tries to clear his head of distracting thoughts about the man’s eyes. “I was wondering, would you be able to take a picture of me, please?”

“Sure,” the man agrees with a shrug, and a small smile.

Eric is relieved. He’s been waiting for almost ten minutes for another English speaker. He didn’t think it would take so long, and he was too nervous to try using hand gestures to communicate with a non-English speaker, even though everyone up here is probably used to it, or has done it themselves.

“Thank you so much,” Eric says gratefully. He hands the man his phone, camera app already open. “Just tap anywhere on the screen.”

“Alright,” the man accepts, looking down to the camera screen.

Eric moves back to the edge of the platform and smiles at the camera. The man takes a few moments to figure out Eric’s phone, then he lifts his gaze to Eric. His eyes narrow slightly, and he takes a step to one side before lifting the phone and taking the photo.

“Hang on, I’ll take another,” he says, already moving to a new angle.

Eric just keeps smiling, though he’s been holding it a while and thinks it’s slipping into being fake. He moves his arms to a slightly different hold in case the other one turns out bad. He doesn’t want to have to ask this man to take another photo just because his arm looks funny. He’s intruded enough.

The man raises Eric’s phone again and points it toward Eric. Eric can see him tapping several times, taking multiple photos. The man has got little furrow lines between his eyebrows, which Eric can’t help but think is very attractive. There’s something about a man so focused that speaks to Eric.

Keep reading

Q&A Saturday (Part 2)

(Jaleena pls) 

AAA! They are all EXCITED! Dario is wayyyy too eager about the punching down special, too!

Aaa, welcome to my blog! <3 Thank you for following! Please don’t be ashamed, it’s totally normal! Their Splatoon bios are right here! (Altho the pics are really old, haha!) For their original selves, I’m still working on it, but please don’t worry! Take the blog at whatever pace is best for you <3 

LOL, there is definitely a kidnapping happening there

I’m so excited to work on the comics, especially all the octo!Dario ones, so I hope you’re excited to see them!

I really love you guys, you’re all so terribly sweet. But I struggle with making friends- I’m really hard to talk to on a personal level unless we naturally become friends over time and even then, I struggle to get back to people. But! I was wondering if you guys would ever like to have a discord server altogether? I think it’d be tons of fun and I would love to have splat sessions, streams, and movie nights with you guys! Let me know!

That’s all for today! It’s a little short because I didn’t get many Splatoon asks but thank you all for the questions! I’m very happy to draw and talk for you guys! Again, let me know what you think about a discord server! Have a great weekend!

Submission: Chaos Theory

For as long as he can remember, Madara has been tidy with everything he does - cooking, homework, herding his brother through his own tasks (which is so very similar to herding cats, and he is beyond grateful that Izuna is mostly self-sufficient now), and anything else that comes to mind.
His new roommate is… not. The moment he walks through the door for the first time, Madara is greeted by the sight of stacks of paper nearly five feet tall, and ink and graphite marks on every plausible surface - including, somehow, the ceiling, which is decorated with an admittedly impressive diagram of a prototype fighter jet. After wading through the maze of drawings, diagrams, notes, and journals, he finally finds the culprit nose-deep in a book on inorganic chemistry and scribbling notes on his own arm with what appears to be permanent marker.
The unknown boy looks up when Madara clears his throat, and gives him a look that’s somewhere between that of an annoyed and sleep-deprived snow leopard and a mad scientist who has suddenly found the most FASCINATING species of insect on earth.
“Can I help you?” the silver-haired boy asks mildly, eyeing Madara’s slightly worn-out suitcase.
Sheepishly, the Uchiha replies, “I’m… actually your new roommate. I hope you don’t mind. My name is Uchiha Madara.”
“Senju Tobirama,” the disorganized boy responds curtly, immediately returning to his work.
(Somewhere deep in his heart, a part of Madara BURNS at the blatant dismissal, and vows to make his roommate acknowledge him.)
- - - - - - - -
Predictably, it is their dissimilar attitudes towards cleaning that causes their first major conflict. Madara had sorted through Tobirama’s vast stacks of writing and had organized them as best he could (which, considering that the Senju’s handwriting looks less like kanji and more like a cross between Hieratic and chicken footprints, was incredibly time consuming).
When he got back from his class, Tobirama took one look at the neat stacks and promptly went berserk. “WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY NOTES, UCHIHA?!” he shrieked as he immediately began to pull apart the stacks.
Confused, Madara leaned against the doorframe. “I organized them so that you could find things more easily, and so I wasn’t tripping over the stacks.”
Tobirama just growled and set to work, muttering darkly.
- - - - - - - -
“Y'know, you’re basically a housewife at this point, Uchiha,” Mito points out as she hands him his coffee. “You might want to just propose to Tobi and get it over with now.”
Madara gapes at her for all of twenty seconds as his brain short-circuits, and then slaps a wad of bills down on the counter and runs out the door.
- - - - - - - -
If their dorm is normally a mess, right now it is a total disaster zone. Tobirama picks through the piles of detritis, that appear to have started to evolve like some sort of primordial slime, towards the shivering laundry pile on Madara’s bed.
Granite-hard brown eyes watch his every move from between narrowed eyelids, and when he reaches out towards the top of the pile, the Uchiha HISSES at him.
Tobirama levels a flat, unimpressed look at the laundry-troll that is his roommate, and goes and starts dumping out the contents of shelves and drawers, giving the brunette a challenging glare.
And thus, the war began.